All Motives Have Consequences
by Skylarcat
Summary: The end of a case causes Flynn to reexamine her feelings for her partner. One-Shot. Fluff.


**Title:** All Motives Have Consequences  
**Author:** Skylarcat  
**Classification:** One shot. Angie Flynn, Oscar Vega. They need a ship name damnit.  
**Rating**: PG 13 boarding on R *Laughs and Laughs and Laughs*  
**Feedback:** Hell YEAH. I live for that shit.  
**Summary:** The end result of a case causes Flynn to reexamine her feelings for her partner. I haven't written for some time, but these two have become my muse. I dabbed with a one-shot just to test my toes in the water. I already have ideas for other fics, but wanted to test this one out. It may be slightly out of character, but it's them, just enacting a scenario from my mind. Be warned, it's pure fluff. If you don't like fluff then you don't know what you're missing because fluff is delicious.  
**Tagline: **Oh where a motive can lead…  
**Note:** Flynn and Vega are characters that do not belong to me. Yes, I have used them without permission. However, no copyright infringement is intended. And I will return them intact and a lot more satisfied.

**XXXXXX**

Angie Flynn was a strong-minded individual. She could be blunt and outspoken; and often trusted on her instincts to guide her. It was these characteristics that attracted people to her, but it was these same traits that flawed her to a degree. Being so independent hardened her; made her forget what it was like to need another person. Her personality also wasn't for the weak; it took a strong individual to match her toe-to-toe. She had lucked out when she was partnered with Oscar Vega.

He was the calm to her storm. When she was willing to leap without first ensuring a soft landing, it was Vega, which grounded her. They balanced each other in every sense of the word; and when most people would have walked away from her chaotic reasoning, he seemed to marvel within her mad world.

He was restrained and thoughtful, and examined evidence with purpose and pose. She, on the other hand, was a firecracker. The puzzle always intriguing her analytical mind; and she would probe and gnaw at every scenario, trusting on her gut more than reason. One thing she was sure of, people were capable of anything, if they had the motive.

It was the result of a motive that had her sitting on her sofa, in her dimly lit living room, drowning a tall glass of scotch, wondering where her feelings for her partner actually stood.

It had begun simple enough. A case. A victim. A suspect. A motive. All coming to a show-down in a small apartment. The suspect had pulled a gun, and Vega, without much thought had stepped between it and herself, determined that if the man were going to fire, the bullet would never reach her. She had drawn her own gun in a flash, the tension trickling throughout her muscles.

Vega had held his hands up in a non-threatening posture, trying to meditate the situation to the best of his ability. A thousand thoughts, at that moment, raced through her head, all involving the suspect pulling that trigger and Vega no longer being in her life. Her heart pounded like thunder inside her chest, the bang from it, ringing in her ears. She felt sweat bead on her forehead. The thought of Vega no longer being in her life had made her legs weak, and she thought she would collapse from the sheer weight of the emptiness that suddenly filled her.

The suspect was ranting; a man with nothing to lose, and she watched him with consideration. He had glanced towards the window, the gun turning slightly in the same direction, and without hesitation, she fired.

Vega glanced once at her, before stepping over the motionless man, checking for a pulse. He had looked up at her with solemn eyes, and gave a slight nod. He didn't have to speak; words had never been needed for them to communicate. She knew then that the man was deceased. It had all been over in a moment of metal meeting heat.

She hadn't realized she was still pointing her gun until Vega cautiously approached her, his hands reaching for her own, removing her gun from her firm grip. "He…" she had trailed off, wiping the back of her hand along her forehead. "He was going to kill you…" she had then pointed at the man slouching on the floor, as though the gesture would add more validity to her statement.

"I know, Angie. You had to take it. It was a clean shot." He had reached out trying to clutch her arms and for a moment, she had tried to break free, feeling undeserving of his touch, but he had pulled her into him, and in an instant her body molded against his. She had given only a quiet nod before burying her head within his neck, allowing the tears to finally fall solemnly.

After an internal investigation, it was determined that Angie had in fact acted in self-defense. The only thing left was the drawing up of paperwork. And like that, case closed.

But not all things were as simple as open and shut. In an instant, the Band-Aid was ripped off, and she sat wounded at the realization; she was in love with her partner.

She always knew that they shared a special bond. Other than her son, he was the only man she trusted completely. He was such an important aspect of her life, the glue that held her together. And being in love with him would only complicate things; hell it could ruin their partnership, or worst of all, their friendship.

She glanced over at where he was typing on the computer, focused on paperwork. Every once in a while, he would absently scratched along his beard, lost in thought. It was an action he had performed a million time before, but this time, it sent her heart in palpitations. The room suddenly felt small, the air becoming almost suffocating, she needed to breathe. And with that, she stood, and without so much as glance back she walked out of the precinct. She could feel his eyes burning her back the whole way out.

It wasn't long until she arrived home to an empty house that she poured herself a tall glass of scotch, and found refuge on her oversize sofa. It had been a long day, and judging from the thoughts that raced through her mind, the night was promising to be even longer. She pressed her thumb along the bridge of her nose, attempting to fight the on sought of a headache.

She was just about to reach for the remote, when a soft knock came from her door. She didn't have to check who it was; she knew it would be him, and for a moment she contemplated not answering, but she knew she couldn't avoid him forever.

He stood on the other side of the door, his coat neatly folded across his arm. His tie had been discarded, his collar buttons were undone. She felt the heat rushed to her face. She swallowed hard as she stepped back, allowing him in.

He was quiet, positioning his coat along the back of her chair. As he moved further into the room, he paused, taking note of her glass of scotch. When he finally turned to face her, his brows were furrowed with concern, his mouth drawn into a frown. "You left without saying goodbye."

There was a hint of sadness in his voice, and she instantly regretted having exited so hastily earlier. She had been so consumed with the need to escape; to escape him; to escape her thoughts that she hadn't stopped to consider what he would think of her sudden retreat.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly." She shrugged. "I had to get out of there." The room was suddenly feeling smaller, his presence alone shrinking her walls; both literally and metaphorically speaking. She glanced at the window that stood behind him, pondering if she should open it. The air was starting to feel stagnate, almost electric, and she could feel small currents rippling throughout her body, causing the hair on her arms to stand. On second thought, maybe she would open the window and climb out as a means of escape.

He only nodded in understanding, and gestured with his chin towards her scotch. "Rough day?"

She followed his eyes to the table where the barely touch scotch rested. Why hadn't she down that earlier? She could really use it now she thought, and laughed in spite of herself. "Something like that."

He ran his hands through his hair nervously, and she saw him swallow as though he was carefully picking his next choice of words. "Angie, you don't always have to be so strong." His voice took on a more serious tone, and she could feel the tension building like a newly lined brick wall. "Not in front of me," he added, his voice a mere whisper.

She was amazed that the light bulbs didn't burst above their heads. The air suspended thick around them, almost combustible, and she was grateful that she hadn't lit candles, convinced that the sparks that soared between them would have ignited a fire, burning her house straight down into the ground.

She blinked back tears as she silently cursed herself. When had they appeared? She angrily wiped at them with the palms of her hands. The conversation was taking a dangerous turn. Everything about the day: the case, her feelings, him standing before her, reading her like an open book. It was all pulling at her like the stretching of a rubber band, and she was going to snap from the weight of it all.

"Do you know how I would feel if anything ever happened to you?" She didn't recognized the sound of her voice, didn't even realized she had spoken, but her words were out and as sharp as knifes in a tone in which she had not intended. She saw him blink hard in response, not ready for her accusation, but the anger had formed in her chest. The tight knot made it impossible for her to breathe. Her tongue had a mind of its own, "You could have died!" She lashed out, fully aware that her mind and heart weren't working in union. What was that line they shouldn't cross?

"And so could have you!" He snapped back, his words just as sharp as hers. She hadn't been aware of his own frustration fostering on the other side of the room, so consumed with her own thoughts, but she noted the hint of glee and determination in the corner of his eyes. Was this their form of foreplay?

"I know it's part of job. We risk our lives every day, but it doesn't mean I wouldn't be completely destroyed if anything ever happened to you." His voice was softer, but still held an edginess that shook her to the core. "Because believe me, Ang, I would." He added briefly before stepping forward causing her breath to catch in her throat.

They were both treading a fine line that if cross, could have dire consequences; consequences that neither of them could fully understand at that moment. She was painfully aware of his closeness, and took the moment to examine his facial expression. His jawline was square; the muscles there clenched as though he were fighting the urge to speak, or to kiss her, or both. His pupils were dilated, dark; a hint of lust sparkling in the corner of his heavy lids. She noted, that he look exhausted and yet, fully alert at the same time. He was the only man that she knew that could do that, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him, but then there were those sneaky consequences, and they came back full force into her mind, snapping her back into reality. What were they doing?

She collected what courage she could muster. Her hands sweaty. Her heart racing. Her mouth dry. Damn that scotch that tormented her from where it sat on her coffee table. She closed her eyes. "I think you should go." Her voice came out in a mere whisper, betraying her. Somehow, she managed to open the door and step aside for him to leave.

He didn't budge. "I'm not going anywhere." There was a defiance behind his voice, reminding Angie of her own son when he was determine to get his way. Really? Were they going to do this?

Her answer came when he quickly reached out behind her, slamming the door back shut. She hadn't been expecting that, and the action caused her to lose her balance slightly, resulting in her pressing her back against the door, to regain her posture. He used the opportunity to lower his arm and pin her into place, sealing off her last means of escape.

She wasn't afraid, well in the sense he would hurt her. She knew Vega would never harm her in anyway, but they were confronting truths that perhaps they weren't truly prepared for, and that fact did scare her. She could feel her last resolve slipping away and knew if they were to keep this up there would be no turning back.

"What's going on, Angie?" He asked her. He lowered his head slightly, so his eyes were lined with hers. "Talk to me."

Her heart dropped at the concern in his plea. Talk to him. It was a simple request. He wanted to know what was going on, what she was thinking. He was her friend; her partner. Her Vega. Even with all his god-damn rationalism. She sighed. How could one man be so sincere? "I…" she paused, shrugging her shoulders, not sure on the right choice of words. "I was scared." She finally admitted. She dropped her eyes from his and added, "I'm still scared."

She felt his fingers trace gently along her jaw, tilting her chin up, causing them to lock eyes in the process. Whatever fight she had left in her dissolved in the moment her eyes had found his. There were no words needed, for his eyes told her all she needed to know. He cared about her just as much as she cared about him, if not more. Yes, they had a playful banter; an easiness about their relationship, but there was so much more. His eyes darkened with an unbinding lust, causing her to gnaw at her bottom lip from the sight.

The action caused him to avert his attention from her eyes to her lips. And she couldn't help but to snake the tip of her pink tongue out to wet her lips, her throat becoming increasingly dry. When his eyes returned to her own, she noted a desire in them that she had never seen before and before she knew it his lips came crushing down on hers.

The kiss was slow, deep, and desperate; consisting of a strong hunger that no amount of closeness could fill. It was a combination of lips and teeth and tongue, all fighting for a deeper connection. A soft moan escaped the back of her throat. Her legs felt like Jell-O and threaten to buckle right there on the spot. She sank back into the door, hoping to find some form of balance, or she was going to end up a puddle right there in the middle of the floor. Strong hands traced along her hips and across her sides causing shivers to cascade down her spine. He was going to be her undoing. She caught her breath when she felt his fingers wrap around her wrists, lifting her hands up over head, pinning them to the door.

Her heart pounded loudly against her chest as he thrust lightly against her. She could feel him hard, and erect, and her hips thrust forward involuntary in response. She could feel instant tingling build in the pit of her belly and spread to the heat between her thighs. Things were getting out of control.

"Vega," she worded breathlessly, when the kiss broke just long enough for them to breathe. With her arms pinned above her, she knew she was at his mercy. And he knew this as well.

"Mmm…" he mumbled as he traced kisses along her jawline and down her neck. She lifted her head slightly, granting him better access, forgetting for the moment that what they were doing was insane. She shook her head. "We can't."

He pulled his head back so he could look at her face. "We can," he stated, planting a soft kiss on her lips before pulling back and adding, "In case you failed to notice, but we are both consenting adults."

She chuckled at his words. "Well when you put it like that…" the rest of her statement lost as his mouth once again covered her own. His fingers curled along the locks of her hair, tugging slightly when she gnawed and pulled at the bottom of his lip playfully.

"Easy Ang," he said breathlessly as he cupped her round bottom, lifting her slightly. She maneuvered her legs, wrapping them around his waist as she enveloped her arms around his neck.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," She whispered between kisses, not really believing her own declaration. Even as her words suspended between them, they didn't deter her fingers from occupying the task of unbuttoning his oxford shirt. She pressed her hands against the bare skin of his chest, feeling the warmth of his flesh. She could feel his heart pounding and smiled grateful that hers wasn't the only one racing.

"Give me one good reason why we shouldn't." He challenged, all the while maneuvering them down her hallway toward the direction of her bedroom.

"Because it could change everything." It was the only reason that came to her mind, but it was the only one that mattered. It in fact could change everything. If it didn't work out…she closed her eyes, not wanting to think about such a sad thought.

He paused at her words, his innate ability of being able to know her thoughts. He shifted her slightly so he could stare directly in her eyes and lifted a hand up, brushing a strand of blonde locks away. "You're right," he said. "It could change everything. But maybe for the better." And with that it was settled. They would see this thing through. Together. As a couple.

**THE END.**


End file.
